


How Much Do I Owe You?

by averyk4



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Gen, Levi owns a used book store, M/M, Non Binary Hange, POV Second Person, accidental angst, eren is clumsy, eren should probably follow armin's advice in the future, erwin likes to set people up, even when it's weird, hange is a momma bear, hange is my spirit animal, jean is a horse face, levi is an awkward panda with low self esteem, levi likes to run, levi pov, mikasa is a racing machine, mike likes to sniff people, such dance, what even are these tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-03 20:36:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4114149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/averyk4/pseuds/averyk4
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren is clumsy, Hange is a pest, and Jean is a terrible friend who just wants to woo Mikasa at any cost.</p><p>And Levi? Levi is a poor book shop owner who has no clue what he's doing.</p><p>Alternatively: the time where Eren crashed into a bookshelf and into Levi's life simultaneously.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The first time you see him, he’s walking into your store and arguing with a boy whose face is oddly reminiscent of something equine. You had been preoccupied with pricing the latest books that Hange had acquired from some bat shit customer or another (was purchasing “The History of Cannibals in Scotland: The Tale of Sawney Bean” really necessary? Who will ever buy it?), when the door creaked open and interrupted the deafening silence you had worked so hard to cultivate.

They’re both loud and brash, and you want to knock their heads together in an effort to silence them – after all, how dare they come into _your_ bookstore and interrupt your blessed silence – but when you catch his eyes, any word of complaint dies in your throat because _fuck his eyes are gorgeous_. You’re fairly certain that you can see the ocean reflecting in them - a multitude of blues and greens swirling and mixing fathomlessly. Admittedly, you’ve only ever seen the ocean as narrated by David Attenborough, but he waxes enough poetic about it that you can be assured that it’s quite esteem-able.

You avert your eyes, hoping that he didn’t catch your shameless staring. It would appear that for once in your life, luck is on your side – he’s too preoccupied with arguing with Horse Face to notice much of anything else.

Including the shelf of books directly in front of him.

You watch the crash happen as if it’s in slow motion – he barrels headfirst into the bookshelf, tilting it backwards. You cringe as you hear the dull _thwump_ of the wooden shelf hitting the shops laminate flooring followed by a splintering sound and a cry of pain.

Horse Face, miraculously, begins laughing at the misfortune of his friend. You have suddenly never wanted to hit another human being so much.

But you don’t punch him, because you really don’t need the lawsuit on your hands. Erwin might be a talented lawyer, but you’re not certain if punching random people in the face is a good way to keep him on your good side – no matter how much they might deserve aforementioned punches.

Instead, you rush over to Ocean Eyes’ side, because if his friend isn’t going to help him up you might as well. You ignore the pang in your chest or the errant thoughts of _now you can touch him without being creepy_ because that’s frankly just as creepy and you can’t believe you’d think something like that when he’s clearly in pain.

Before helping him up, you ask “Are you okay?”

He responds with a laugh and a flippant assurance that he is, in fact, not injured, and that the bookshelf took the brunt of the fall.

You offer him your hand to help him up and attempt to ignore the jolt racing up your arm from the contact.

“Sorry about the commotion, and – er – the broken shelf. You see, I would have seen it if stupid Jean hadn’t been trying to disgust me with his stories about pining after my sister –“

“Listen here Jeager, I only –“

“Oh god, don’t start with me again. I am so not going to sit here and listen –“

“I just want to know what sort of flowers she likes! And then maybe gross you out with tales of our amazing sexcapades!”

“You are so fucking –“

You look between them, growing more bewildered by the second. “I could really use some tea _,_ ”you say to no one in particular, rubbing the bridge of your nose.

It is, of course, at that moment that Hange chooses to walk in; it is a law of the universe that they will only appear when things are most disastrous. They take one look at the broken shelf, the arguing men, and you, standing in the eye of this hurricane of chaos, and begin cackling like the marginally insane scientist you know they are.

Your only response is to flip them a particularly unsavoury finger and walk away, intent in your quest for the most calming, herbal tea you can possibly find.

 

~*~

 

In the end, you only have Earl Grey. It’s a disappointment, but a small one.

You get Hange to pick up all the books and box them up until you can buy a new bookshelf, and clean up the remains of the old one yourself. Ocean Eyes offers to help, but you insist that he’s done enough to your precious book store for one day, so he stands to the side and look repentant. Horse Face, for his part, finally realises that perhaps a used book store is not the appropriate venue to discuss the wooing of a beautiful lady.

You’re just happy that he finally shut up.

“I’m not gonna get sued for destruction of your property or anything, am I?” Ocean Eyes’ voice makes you jump a little, after having gotten acclimatized to the silence again.

You sigh. “No, I’m not going to sue you. Accidents happen. The four-eyes knocks shit over on a daily basis, although admittedly they don’t cause quite this much destruction in a single afternoon.”

“Don’t be such a meanie, Levi!” Hange pipes from the back. You roll your eyes in what you hope doesn’t appear to be affection and sigh again. You appear to be doing a lot of that today.

You stand up and dust yourself off. You’ll have to sweep again, thanks to the wood dust from the shelf when it broke. The dust stares at you and you stare back – as if the force of your will can remove the offending particles from their new home on your floor. You hear a snicker and realise that Ocean Eyes is laughing at you. Shitty kid.

Any and all attempts at glaring at him for his shitty sense of humour go out the window when you see the way his mirth makes his eyes jump and dance. You’re momentarily blinded by their beauty.

And then you’re momentarily sickened by being momentarily blinded by beauty. _Holy shit Levi, get it together. You did not live for thirty-four years just to get all sappy over a clumsy kid._

You shake your head in an attempt to recollect your thoughts, and notice that Ocean Eyes’ snickers have finally died down. “So, how can I make it up to you? For breaking your shelf, I mean.”

Shrugging, you inform him that you don’t really care one way or another, and it’s just a shitty shelf after all.

He smiles, blindingly. “Well then, how about a drink instead? On me.”

You blink. Attempt to process the request. Blink again. Even Hange has been stunned into momentary stillness.

“A-a what?”

“A drink. You know. Liquor. Or not liquor! Whatever makes you happy! Or tea! Or something. Just - just let me take you out to apologize.”

You still don’t think that you fully understood the request. No one ever asks you out for drinks. You’re surly. You have a terrible sense of humour. You are literal shit at articulating emotions.

And yet.

And yet he asked you out for a drink.

Maybe your practiced look of apathy and boredom has been weakening lately? You can’t fully reconcile the idea that someone would want to take you out for a drink.

Evidently, neither can Horse Face. He lets out a laugh that sounds closer to a whinny, and almost doubles over, clutching his sides. Ocean Eyes’ resolve appears to waver at that, and his face begins to go slack as the muscles holding his smile give up.

And then you surprise even yourself by saying “Sure, why not?”

 

~*~

 

The bar he picked was full. Full of people. Full of noises.

You had agreed to meet him here after you closed your shop for the day. Of course, that meant hours of dealing with Hange and their insufferable questions.

“Why did you agree to get a drink with him, Levi?”

“Fuck off, Hange.”

“You never want to get drinks with me!”

“That’s because you’re irritating.”

“So you mean that the kid isn’t irritating? Oh ho! Interesting!”

And on and on it went. They were relentless. Sometimes you wish you could just fire them.

You grab a beer – whatever is on special, you’re not picky – and sit down at an empty table. You hope that the kid will show up soon. All of these people are making you a bit jumpy, and the noise is giving you a headache.

When he does arrive (five minutes late and out of breath), all of your prior concerns vanish. He apologises for having to make you wait, and settles in to what you think will be the most awkward pint you’ve ever shared.

And boy are you wrong.

The kid can carry a conversation like no one you’ve ever met. He’s passionate and full of life and it makes you feel alive for the first time in what feels like forever. He makes up for all of your awkwardness with an easy laugh and a teasing grin, and for a while you even forget to be surly.

You find yourself actually enjoying your time at the bar. You even tell a couple anecdotes, haltingly, about university with Hange and Erwin and Mike, and, miraculously, he laughs at them, even though you can hear how shitty the stories really are. You try to convince yourself that he’s just being nice, but there’s something so endearing in his smile that you just can’t help but believe that he’s genuinely interested in what you have to say.

When you run out of common ground, as you always knew you would – you’re awkward and unsociable, there’s only so much commonality you might have with someone like him – he tells you about his family, about his major in university, about anything and everything. 

You never knew someone could be so candid.

You never expected that they wouldn’t mind if you didn’t feel comfortable returning the favour.

 

~*~

 

The night draws to a close, as they are wont to do. You both agree that it’s probably time for you to head your separate ways.

He asks for your number, and if he can see you again. To your surprise, you acquiesce to both requests. 

It’s only when he turns to walk away to you realize that you have made a critical error. You curse yourself out for being a fool before calling out to him.

He turns back and jogs towards you. “What’s wrong, Levi?”

You stutter, “I-I...I never actually got your name.” 

He looks shocked for a second, but it quickly gives way to laughter.

You glower at him. “Well?” you prompt.

He chuckles, before extending his hand out you to shake yours and saying, “Hi, I’m Eren.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pizza dates! Trust Seabiscuit to make sure everything goes sideways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sat down and my fingers accidentally wrote another chapter. Oops. I wouldn't expect chapters to be updated this fast in the future, if I were you. But here. Have some things with words.

You don’t have anything to wear.

Well, perhaps that’s not entirely true. Hange insists that you look _dashing_ in whatever you put on, but you can’t help but disagree with that sentiment. You don’t look _dashing_. At best, you look like a middle-schooler who went through their father’s wardrobe for something to wear to their first date.

And, you ponder ruefully, that _is_ what you’re doing. After a week of Eren texting you and you responding in the briefest way possible so as to avoid making a fool out of yourself, you’ve finally made plans to go on an actual _date._ Which is something you haven’t done since university.

Erwin actually spat out his coffee when you told him. Mike sniffed at you cautiously, in what you assume was a spot check to ensure that you weren’t on some sort of narcotic.

You suppose that they had been supportive in their own ways – Erwin asks the requisite cursory questions about Eren and how you met, and Mike nods noncommittally before changing topics – but no one had been as supportive as Hange.

You’re fairly certain that it’s just an attempt to live vicariously through you, however. You’re surprised they don’t have a notebook specifically dedicated to your new foray into the world of dating.

Which, in the end, brings you back to your present dilemma: what to wear.

Hange rolls around on your bed, mussing the duvet and getting their greasy hair on your pillow. You inwardly cringe and make a note to change the sheets before going to bed. You have no idea where Hange has been, and to a certain extent, you’re certain you want to keep it that way.

“Oi, Shit Glasses, I thought you were supposed to be helping me, not fucking up my sheets,” you call out to them.

They laugh at you, and you raise an eyebrow in response, mouth set in a definite frown. They pout at you, and your frown deepens.

“No one likes a Grumpy Gus, Levi. If you keep frowning, your face will be like that permanently.”

Your frown persists, and in what appears to be a Herculean effort, Hange manages to drag themselves off your bed and towards your closet. She haphazardly grabs the first pair of pants that she sees and shoves them in your face. “Here, wear these.”

“Wow, what a help you are,” you deadpan, “How could I possibly have survived this long without your fashion advice?”

“Fine, fine. Where did he say he was taking you?”

“To a pizza place.” You almost manage to repress your shudder at the thought of food related grease. Almost.

Hange cackles and wheezes at your obvious discomfort, before managing to squeak out, “boy Levi, that’s a good one! But seriously, where is he taking you.”

“To a pizza place.” Your tone brooks no argument.

“Who takes a grown ass man to a pizza place for dinner? What is he, twenty?”

At that your cheeks heat up. “Yes,” you respond, turning away so they don’t catch your blush.

Too bad for you they’re observant.

“ _Levi_!” they screech at you in what you assume to be an approximation of a bird of prey.

Yes, you know. You know he’s only twenty. You know that when you were legally allowed to drink he was still in preschool.

You know.

You explain this to Hange, and inform her that you’re trying to not let the age difference be the defining factor in whatever the fuck is going on between the two of you. Do a week of texts and one shared evening in a bar in which you completely forgot to _ask him what his fucking name was_ constitute any sort of relationship? You have no idea. You haven’t been on a date since you were his age.

And fuck if that realization doesn’t make you feel old.

But the truth is, you’re lonely. You’ve been that way for as long as you can remember, but you’re tired of being lonely. Three friends isn’t quite enough to sate the very human need for companionship that seems to follow you around wherever you go.

And Eren makes you feel alive in a way you don’t think you ever have been before. He is passion and fire in the same way you are calm and ice.

Perhaps you’ve been musing on this for too long.

All you know is that if you sit here and stare at your clothes any longer than you already have, you are going to be late. And whilst Eren might find it totally acceptable to be at least five minutes late to any scheduled event - _what has this generation come to_ , you muse irately – you refuse to be late. You might be rude and unpleasant to be around, but fuck if you’re going to let anyone wait around on your account.

In the end, you put on jeans and a tee shirt, because if you’re going to eat greasy food, you might as well make sure you aren’t destroying any clothes that you’re particularly attached to. You adamantly refuse to clean pizza grease out of clothes – you know it never comes out.

~*~

As luck would have it, you’re five minutes early.

Eren, of course, it not.

Not that it really bothers you, at the end of the day. It gives you some extra time to clean off your table and calm yourself down.

Five minutes after the appointed time when Eren is supposed to show up, he’s still not there.

Ten minutes pass, and you assume that he’s stuck in traffic.

Fifteen minutes pass, and you’ve started to worry that you got the wrong place. You send him a text – longer than one word! – and receive no response.

Twenty minutes pass, and you’re getting irate. If he wanted to stand you up, surely he could have picked somewhere better than this shitty pizza parlour.

Twenty-five minutes pass, and you’re about to pack it in and head home, resigned to a life of loneliness. _Stupid, stupid, stupid_ , you repeat to yourself. Stupid to think anyone would want to spend time with you. Stupid to think that someone would show up when history has proven that only five people in your life have ever been there for you.

You leave the restaurant, and walk home.

When you crawl into bed that night, you tell yourself that it doesn’t matter. That none of this matters. That you were destined to be alone.

You tell yourself that you’re not crying, despite your wet pillow.

~*~

Work is unpleasant.

Naturally, the first thing Hange does is ask you how your date was. You attempt to answer as noncommittally as possible, not wanting to discuss _anything_ related to Eren. Hange, of course, sees right through you.

When you eventually, inevitably, tell them what happened in the most succinct sentences possible, they transform into what Erwin has unfortunately dubbed Momma Hange.

They buy ice cream – despite your aversion to the stuff.

They put on Taylor Swift – despite your protestations that just because you’re gay, you don’t actually have to like Taylor Swift, and, in fact, you really don’t enjoy her music all that much.

They make you sit on the floor cross-legged with her – despite how much you really hate sitting on the floor. You haven’t even swept it today.

They starts what they call the “Bash Eren Fest” – despite your insistence that you really don’t need to vent about it, and it was only a week long infatuation, and you’re practically over it (even though you really aren’t).

In short, Momma Hange is your worst nightmare.

They’re yelling so loudly about how shitty all twenty year olds are, you don’t hear the door open.

And so when Eren looks over the counter, he sees you and Hange bitching about “good for nothing millennials” whilst listening to Bad Blood, gorging on ice cream, and generally acting like two fifteen year olds at a slumber party.

And when you finally notice Eren staring at you over the counter, you definitely do not scream like aforementioned fifteen year old. You definitely do not leap up and stumble over Hange, falling backwards against the wall.

Definitely not. That was someone else.

~*~

The first thing that you notice, when you’ve calmed down sufficiently, is that Eren has a bandage over his head. The second thing you notice is how apologetic he looks. The third thing you notice is the box of pizza he has in his hands.

“Hi, Levi,” he says, and he sounds _so_ remorseful.

You grunt in acknowledgement, but refuse to actually say anything. You’re worried you might say something stupid, like “You’re an asshole” or “I cried myself to sleep over you last night.” You don’t trust yourself to say anything, so you don’t. He seems to get the message anyways.

“So, I didn’t mean to stand you up last night! I just got into a wrestling match with Jean over saying shitty stuff about my Call of Duty skills. He’s such a – never mind. That’s not the point of why I’m here. I wanted to apologize. But I would obviously understand if you don’t want to see my shitty face ever again. So I bought apology pizza. Which is a shitty apology gift, according to Armin. But I thought it would be fitting. I probably should have listened to Armin.”

You look at him as calmly as you can, still trying to process the fact that he is standing in front of you with a _fucking apology pizza_. You don’t fully understand his logic, but that doesn’t change how endearing it is. _You’re such a sap_ , you think to yourself. You hope that your mask of impassivity has remained on your face. You’re admittedly not fully in control of yourself at the moment.

“Why didn’t you just text him this last night?” Praise Hange and their ability to think on their feet whilst you’re still dumbstruck.

“Oh right! Well, I wanted to but then I was at the ER and Mikasa didn’t want to go home to grab my phone _even though I was defending her honour_ and then by the time I got home it was like 3 A.M. and I almost immediately fell–“

You interrupt, “Okay, let me get this straight. You got into a fight with Seabiscuit over a video game or something, and you accidentally bash your own face into a table. You went to the hospital, so you couldn’t make it out to our date. And then instead of flowers or some other romantic bullshit, you get me a fucking pizza. Are we on the same page?”

He nods, looking eager and terrified at the same time.

You sigh.

“Let’s just eat this shitty pizza, kid.”

The smile he gives you in response is the best thing you’ve seen in a week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :D I'm at http://sherlollian.tumblr.com/ if you ever want to hang out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hange is a stellar dancer, amongst other things.

You don’t know what you’re doing here. More accurately, you don’t know why you let Eren convince you that tonight would be a good idea.

You’re at a club.

He dragged you to a club.

You still don’t fully understand how you ended up here. You remember him talking – yes, that definitely happened – but you were distracted by his eyes. Or perhaps it was the tight fit of his tee shirt. Or maybe his skin tight jeans. You aren’t really sure. All you know is that for someone you haven’t even kissed yet – although you definitely want to, you’ve spent more than a few sleepless nights thinking about all the things you _want_ to do with him – he certainly causes a lot of heart palpitations.

The man in questions is somewhere in the throng of pulsating bodies ( _gross, sweaty, unwahsed_ _bodies_ , you think with a grimace) with Seabiscuit and a friend that suspiciously resembles a mushroom. In a feat of brilliance, you’ve been left at the table with his sister.

You swear that if looks could kill you’d have been struck dead hours ago. When Eren first introduced the two of you he had warned you that Mikasa was not particularly pleased with the concept of Eren being “interested” in someone new. What he forgot to mention was the outright hostility.

And naturally, because your uncle raised you to never back down from a challenge – amongst other things – you met her furious gaze with an apathetic one of your own, refusing to be cowed. You’re fairly certain that the resultant handshake was strong enough to form diamonds.

You’re torn out of your musing over the state of your relationship (or lack thereof) with Eren’s sister by the return of Hange and one of Eren’s friends, known to you only as “Potato Girl”, looking triumphant. Hange is the bearer of that nectar of the gods, beer, which you know you’ll need if you ever want to make it through this night. Potato Girl, living up to her name, has acquired some sort of deep fried potato thing that you are sure as _fuck_ not even going to touch. Seriously, who orders food at a club?

Hange slides a beer over to you and mimes how much it costs – it’s too loud to hear anything other than whatever shitty dubstep-EDM-remix-hiphop _bullshit_ they have playing through the speakers. You pull out your wallet and pass them the required money before you return to your brooding.

That is, of course, until Hange attempts to drag you to the dancefloor.

You really should have seen it coming. Loudness and the ability to flail wildly are two of Hange’s favourite things. Naturally they would want to dance, no matter whether their chosen dance partner had a beer in hand or a general unwillingness to move wildly with a whole host of sweaty twenty-somethings.

Any and all attempts to extricate yourself from their surprisingly sturdy grip are complete and utter failures.

Looking over your shoulder in a desperate plea for help before you’re lost in the throng of bodies, you see that Mikasa, that she-devil, looks like she’s enjoying herself for the first time this evening.

Perhaps it’s at your expense.

Your last glimpse of the table before the crowd swallows you whole is Mikasa laughing with Potato Girl and pointing at you.

It’s definitely at your expense.

~*~

Twenty-one.

That’s the number of times that Hange has kicked you in the shins, elbowed you in the face, or otherwise manhandled you.

You’re not certain what part of “stop flailing” they don’t understand.

If only you could have a nice dance partner. Someone who didn’t kick you in the shins and who was nice to look at and washed their hair more than once a week and had ocean coloured eyes and-

Okay, maybe you really only want one dance partner. You’re not sure where he fucked off to, so you suppose you’ll have to make do. At least dancing with Hange is less awkward than dancing with Erwin. At least you can see Hange’s face without having to look up.

You suppose that you should take comfort in the small things.

And that’s when they kick you again.

“Fuck off, Shit Glasses!” you yell, trying to be heard over the din of the music and the crowd. They have the temerity to not even look apologetic. “I’m going back to the table. Find someone else to beat up.”

You stalk – limp – back to the group of Eren’s friends. Thankfully, in the time you were gone Eren returned. You’ve never been so happy to see him in your life. You’re not sure how much more glaring from Mikasa you could have withstood.

When you slide into the chair next to his, he gives you one of the widest grins you’ve ever seen.

You don’t think you’ve ever witnessed something so beautiful.

He leans into you until his mouth is hovering just over the shell of your ear, and you have to repress a shiver when he says “I thought you had left without saying goodbye.”

You shake your head, too worried that if you try and reciprocate your voice will fail.

“Well, that’s good to hear, because I haven’t gotten a dance with you yet.” His voice sounds an octave lower than it usually does, and _fuck_ if he didn’t just get sexier.

He pulls back and gives you another brilliant grin before taking your hand – hand holding is apparently a thing that you’re doing now – and leading you out onto the dancefloor.

You’ve never been such a willing dance partner in your life.

~*~

Eren’s dance moves are much better than Hange’s.

Not that you expected anything less, of course. He sways to the beat of the music in a way that you could only hope to replicate in your wildest dreams.

You, by contrast, are not quite sure what to do with your hands. Or feet. Or really any part of your body. Suddenly you’re tempted by the urge to start flailing wildly like Hange, if only to prevent this weird feeling that everything you do is awkward and ungainly.

Somehow you don’t think that Eren would appreciate being beat up on the dance floor.

Eren – beautiful, kind, empathetic Eren – somehow senses your discomfort. He takes your hands and places them gently on his shoulders. He’s warm and comforting and _safe_ (and maybe also a little sweaty).

He places his hands on your hips and suddenly you’re swaying with him to a beat that has nothing to do with the music playing in the background. You’re acutely aware of all the different points of contact the two of you are sharing – the way your knees occasionally bump into his legs, the heat emanating from his body only six inches away, how his shirt feels underneath your hands and how his hands feel over your shirt.

You look up at Eren and he smiles down at you. It’s a shy smile; a smile filled with hope and dreams and all that other bullshit best left unsaid and it makes him look terribly young.

He leans in towards you, doe eyed. Your lips part voluntarily. You’ve both stopped swaying to the beat of the music.

His hands slide up you back to cup your head. Reflexively, you lean into the touch, not unlike a cat. You can feel Eren’s breath on your lips.

You’re not sure if you’re actually breathing yourself.

And then you’re both suddenly being bowled over by some _fucking dickwad_ who doesn’t understand proper timing. You’re falling over and Eren is falling with you, the ground rushing up to meet you like an old friend. You don’t even think to throw out your arms in a desperate attempt to break your fall.

You land on your back and Eren lands on top of you. In the right circumstances this would be an ideal situation. It’s not the right circumstances.

The floor is covered in liquor and sweat and only god knows what else. Fuck.

And then, inexplicably, Eren starts laughing.

He rolls off of you, cackling like a mad man. And in the most unexpected turn of events, you join in. You can feel something starting to stick to the back of your shirt and it smells like swampass but you just can’t stop giggling.

When you finally regain control of yourself – and it really does take a while, you’ve not laughed like that in a long time – you scramble off the floor because it really is disgusting. Dusting yourself off, you look down at Eren who’s looking at you like you’re the god damned Nobel Prize. You lift the corners of your mouth in what you hope is a smile (he doesn’t look terribly put off, so you can’t be doing too terribly), and offer a hand to him to help him up.

He doesn’t let go once he’s up. His palm feels warm and sturdy in your palm.

Like it was always meant to be there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think :) You can find me at tumblr at sherlollian.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi goes for a run. With actual people. This sounds promising, doesn't it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long. I was on vacation and then I got hit with some writers block (I'm a slow writer as it is so that wasn't super fun). But here, have a chapter! I wrote this whilst at work so please forgive any typos (and please make sure to point them out so I can correct them!)

You've always enjoyed your morning runs with Erwin. His hectic schedule as some sort of fucking hotshot has ensured that you very infrequently get to see each other, but the two of you have made an effort to always go for a run together Sunday mornings at ass-o'clock in the morning. 

You're still tired from your clubbing excursion with Eren and his posse two days prior - your legs are still black and blue from Hange's enthusiastic flailing - but you can't bring yourself to cancel your run with Eyebrows. He makes an effort to make it out there after his "amazing" and "sensual" Saturday evenings with Mike (how you wish you could scrub _that_ particular conversation out of your mind but it just won't leave), and you should show him the same respect. You might be an asshole, but you're not rude.

Somehow, you know that you're going to regret getting out of bed.

~*~

You know that your instincts were correct when you come into view of the appointed meeting place - a park equidistant from both your and Erwin's homes - and notice not one but two people standing idly and chatting. You don't remember Erwin mentioning bringing another person - he never has before, except for one ill-advised adventure with Mike, which resulted in you getting a face full of mud trying to keep up with their abnormally long legs. One giant you can keep up with; two is simply ridiculous.

Upon closer inspection, you note that the invader is a woman wearing a suspiciously familiar red scarf.

 _Fuck_.

_Fuck fuck fuck._

You don't have anything against Mikasa in particular - and if you're being completely honest you sort of enjoy her bluntness as it reminds you of yourself - but you really don't want to go for a run with your best friend and the sister of the guy that you're... well, you don't really know what you and Eren are doing or what you are to each other, but whatever. That doesn't change that you _really_ don't want to go jogging with his sister.

"Levi!" Erwin calls and gives you a brief wave, as if there could possibly be some confusion as to where they are when they are the only people present in the park other than yourself. You give him a sarcastic wave back and jog over to join the two of them.

You really miss your bed right about now.

"Levi! Glad you could make it!" Erwin's wearing a shit-eating grin that you really want to punch off, but the undignified way in which you'd need to crawl up him to reach his face is thankfully preventing you from making too much of an ass of yourself. "Sorry I didn't mention that there'd be a third person in our little running group this morning, but it completely slipped my mind."

Sure it did. Erwin is perpetually trying to get you to _make new friends_ and _meet that special someone_ so that he and Mike can invite you to do shitty couple-y things together like wine tastings and-

 _Holy shit,_ is Eyebrows actually trying to hook you up with Mikasa? It's like you haven't known each other for over a decade or something. It's like he doesn't even remember you're gay. Bless his poor little heart. If you weren't so disgusted, you'd actually find the whole situation pretty laughable. As it is, you try not to let your extreme horror at the situation show on your face.

Luckily, you have resting bitch face.

"Anyways," Erwin continues, "this is my new intern-"

"Mikasa Ackerman," you interrupt. Erwins' look of utter surprise is something beautiful to behold, and you wish you'd had the foresight to bring your phone with you to take a picture. You suppose morosely that the memory will have to suffice.

"You two already know each other?"

"Yeah, I'm friends with her brother."

Mikasa scoffs. "Friends? Is that what they're calling it now?"

You give her a cool once-over and ask "What exactly are you trying to imply?" sounding approximately as affronted as you feel. Your relationship (or lack thereof) with her brother is definitely not in the realm of Things That Are Okay To Talk About Derisively.

"You know exactly what I'm implying."

"Can't say that I do. Can't say that I'm particularly interested in continuing this discussion either. I came here to go for a run with Erwin, not bicker about my sex life, which is something that you have no business discussing. Now can we get running or did I waste my time waking up this morning?"

Mikasa gives you an almost imperceptible nod and takes off silently on the multi-use pathway. Erwin claps you on the shoulder before giving you his most calculating grin, leaning in towards you. "Now what was all that about, hmm?"

You give an audible  _tch_ in response and move to follow Mikasa. Erwin laughs heartily before falling into step with you.

 _This day could not get any worse_ , you think to yourself.

~*~

You don't remember when this turned into a race. You definitely didn't want it to turn into a race. Somewhere between the bend with the big ass trees and a bronze statue known as "The Female Titan" Mikasa sped up and you couldn't help but keep pace with her. Gradually you've been picking up speed in an attempt to outpace her but she's been keeping up just fine. You've both completely forgotten about Erwin, left in the proverbial dust. If this whole "group running" thing hadn't been his idea, you might almost feel bad for him. 

Almost.

The two of you are almost within viewing distance of the parking lot when you speed up again. After all, you're Levi Fucking Ackerman and you refuse to lose. "Stubborn Competitive Bastard" is your middle name.

Naturally, that's when you trip on a root sticking out of the pavement.

You can feel your ankle twist at an unnatural angle as you fall forward, and you only have seconds to throw your hands out in front of you to protect your face.

As you land, you cry out in a torrent of curses that would make even a sailor blush - your Uncle Kenny might have been a good for nothing degenerate, but he was also one hell of a linguist.

You roll onto your back, breathing hard. Mikasa has doubled back, although you can't tell if her intentions are to help you up or ridicule your clumsiness.

You wish she would have kept going.

She offers you her and when you take it, she pulls you up almost effortlessly. She's stronger than any normal law intern has any right to be - you can't help but thinking  _not bad_ once you're on your feet.

Any attempts to move your ankle result in an intense throbbing pain. _Fucking great_ , you think to yourself. You sigh and look over to the parking lot, trying to gauge the distance and how on point your one-footed hop is at the moment.

You've resigned yourself to uncoordinated hopping when Mikasa finally takes pity on you and offers you her shoulder to hold onto so you can limp back to your car in a semblance of grace.

The walk is mostly silent, save for the shuffling of your injured foot on the pavement. The silence allows you a good opportunity to berate your idiocy. You should have just kept pace with Eyebrows. Nothing bad happens around him. He's ass-fulls of sunshine and happiness.

But, at the end of the day, you made your choice. You're not sure who's going to run the store if you can't stand or walk around - no way you're trusting Hange for more than a couple of hours in the store by themselves. Maybe Petra or Oluo would be able to cover. But Petra's too god damned nice and Oluo has a tendency to bleed all over the books when he gets excited.

In a word, you're fucked.

Your reverie is broken by a firm nudging from Mikasa, indicating that you've somehow reached your car. Only then does it occur to you that you drive a standard and you cannot move one of your feet. Erwin doesn't drive standard (of course), and so you're left with only one option to get home.

You look over at Mikasa. "Hey kid. I can't drive like this."

The look she gives you full of loathing.

This must be what hell is like.

~*~

The drive is as silent as an empty cemetery. You can hear each and every rattle of your piece-of-shit Sunfire, and you're fairly certain that Mikasa is purposefully changing gears poorly in an attempt to wear down your clutch. You wouldn't put it past her.

 _At least she's driving me home_ , you think. It could have been worse - she could have left you in the park.

The road leading up to your apartment complex is filled with potholes that the city is too cheap to fix, and your ankle twinges at every bump. As she pulls into your allocated stall, you're tempted to thank her for the ride home. You're not quite sure what stops you. Perhaps some misguided sense of injured pride at falling over in a race that you shouldn't have even taken a part of in the first place.

She puts the car into park and looks over to you. "Well, this has been a day I never want to repeat."

You actually ( _actually!_ ) snicker at her deadpan delivery. The look of confused amazement she gives you is nothing short of miraculous. "You know, for being a total bitch sometimes, you actually aren't that bad."

"And for being a cradle robbing midget who has no business spending time with my brother, you aren't too shabby yourself."

"Wow. Gee. Thanks." You pick some imaginary lint off your track pants before continuing, "Well, this has been a slice, but I have a flight of stairs to limp up, so if we could stop this touchy feely shit and get back to glaring at each other, that would be much appreciated."

Mikasa snorts at you before opening the drivers side door. "See you next Sunday morning?"

You gift her with a rare genuine smile and respond with "You bet."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mikasa/Levi is like my ultimate brotp. Forgive me for indulging in some Ackerbonding? Find me on tumblr at sherlollian!


End file.
